


Recall

by Yunimori



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Memory Alteration, Short One Shot, Temporary Amnesia, Writing Prompt, mental pain, reliving memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 06:09:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yunimori/pseuds/Yunimori
Summary: Ratchet had said to wait for his memory to return, so waiting is what Shockwave had done. No one would tell him what he was missing, saying it would be best for him to have it only when he regained his memory. He is not prepared for when his memory finally fixes itself and he is left with millions of years of pent-up horror replaying in a matter of minutes.





	Recall

**Author's Note:**

> I'm copying all of my Shockwave and Optimus/Shockwave ficlets and drabbles from my tumblr accounts over to my ao3 account. Most of these are going to be incredibly short (hence the drabble tag), and either in short-form format or 100 Themes Challenge format.
> 
> This is just for my own peace of mind, making sure they are safe from tumblr's random purges.
> 
> However, feel free to read them and let me know if you enjoyed them!

It started with a headache, but that was nothing unusual. He strained his eyes often enough that headaches were _common_, and honestly had been moreso since he lost his memory. Shockwave was used to them by now, and had paid little attention beyond squinting at the random throbs that shot through his skull. 

It had lasted all day, leaving him slightly irritated and quiet by the time he got off and went home, trying to think about what he should fix for supper tonight, or if it was even his turn. He kept a lid on his irritation, though. That was his own fault, and no reason to take it out on anyone, accidentally or otherwise, and Primus knew his Endura, their son, or their dog didn’t need him snapping at them when they had done absolutely nothing wrong. 

Still, though, he was quiet, and when he got home, he was quieter still, the pounding in his head having upped itself on the walk from the lab to the Ark. Gizmo’s joyful barking when she heard him coming was painful, even though he normally loved hearing her that happy. It made him squint when he unlocked the door, made him shush her a bit more harshly than he meant to. The look on his bumblepuppy’s face immediately made him regret it, so the instant Shockwave was in the door, he was kneeling carefully, holding his hands out to her so she could leap into his arms and he could apologise.  
  
“Poor girl. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be harsh with you,” he murmured, standing and flinching at the shift in orientation. “Come and sit with me on the couch for a few minutes while we’re alone. Will you forgive me?”

The little tongue licking at his chin said she already had, but Shockwave still felt guilty. He moved to the couch to sit down and wait on Optimus to come home, holding Gizmo and hoping that some of her love (and him being still) would help relieve some of the pain in his skull. 

He tilted slowly, twisting to put his feet on the couch, but the instant his back touched the couch arm his world…changed. 

Pain blossomed in his skull, far worse than it had been all day, making his vision go dark and his awareness of the now-worried bumblepuppy in his lap fade.

Memories hit him like a riptide. Where before there had been nothing past walking down the stairs of the Senate building until he ‘woke up’ in a greenhouse with no idea where he was or how he got there…suddenly there were millions of years of memories…most of them…unpleasant. 

He watched with horror as his life rolled out in one long, sped-up stream; giving himself up to save his friends and his lover, enduring Empurata and Shadowplay without anything to stem the pain, being taken by Megatron afterward, being molded into a monster that knew no empathy, no sorrow, no kindness, held no understanding of emotion or morality; millions of years of kidnappings and experiments, immune to screams of pain and the cries of the dying as the _creature _using his body _tortured_ bots, adults and children alike; taking bots who had once protected him, called him friend, and _changing_ them, torturing them and forcing them into forms they should never have had, all without recognition; following Megatron’s orders without qualm at the lives he took, save for avoiding the bot he had once loved more than living. He watched the memories of creating beast after beast, monstrosity after monstrosity, each one coming into being a little more cruelly, a little more carelessly, waiting on the Autobots to destroy his ‘creations’ and destroy him in the process. He watched an arrow soar through the sky to go through his shoulder, heard his name being roared, heard his own screams as those millions of years of atrocities came tumbling down around his shoulders, feeling _everything_ he had been lacking all that time, all the suppressed horror and pain and fear and _grief_ over the things _he had done_. 

Shockwave relived all of it, continuing on to his trial, the _mercy_ afforded hm when he did not deserve it. The sentencing. His strange freedom. The beatings afterward that nearly killed him. The hatred that bots did not bother veiling. His sorrow, the grief at knowing nothing he could ever do would ease the pain of those he had hurt. His attempts to at least _help_. The good memories too, though, of being loved despite it all, of slowly gaining the trust of his nephews and his son, of regaining his friends, even the ones he had hurt. 

But also the memories of the nightmares. The memories of War that had been hidden from him during these months. Those overrode everything else. Millions of years of death and destruction, so much of it caused by his hand, a hand _he_ didn’t control, could not stop, no matter how much he struggled and screamed at the monster holding him hostage in his own mind, because his soul was gone, locked away where what made him _him_ held no sway over the actions of his body. 

He felt himself screaming in memory. Did not realize he was screaming in reality. Not until Gizmo’s barking finally made itself known to his ears, snapping him into the present and the realization that he had fallen from the couch at some point, hitting his temple on the edge of the coffee table and making him bleed. 

Gizmo was still barking, and Shockwave only then realized that he was sitting curled up in the floor, still screaming, his vision blurred by tears and plasma. He closed his mouth, the ringing in his ears dying with the sound, making Gizmo quiet as well as she leapt for him, trying to wash his face and not understanding why he was in pain. 

Shockwave reached for her, holding her close to his chest, and began to rock where he sat in the floor, sobbing in near-silence. He hadn’t known what a demon he had been. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t _known_. Primus forgive him, he hadn’t known.


End file.
